Another Day
by Jessica Cornell
Summary: "If you're going to do something awful that you can't live with, it might as well be for love." Not a one-shot anymore. Rated M for lemons and language. Starts off after Jason's death and loosely follows Season 2. Pretty heavy Charloe, but not extremely fluffy. Basically, Charlie is really messed up in the head and Bass draws her to his side. The first chapter mentions suicide.
1. Chapter 1

Charlie was numb. Putting one foot in front of the other, she tore herself away from Jason's body and stumbled out of the building. The light hit her hard. Everything was a dull faded buzzing sound and though she could see people scrambling and running her mind and body were disconnected. She couldn't run even if she wanted to.

_Uncle Miles. He's here … somewhere._

Dizziness swam behind her eyes and she could literally feel the blood draining away from her face. It was like she injured herself when she killed Jason. A part of herself died and was never coming back.

Suddenly, a face was in front of her, shouting and waving a hand. Miles. His words came in slow motion but she couldn't understand. He grabbed her arm and dragged her along with him, jogging down the street in the same direction as everyone else.

Another bullet fired and then her brain snapped back into gear. Everything became clearer now. Miles pulled her down into the treeline, scanning his surroundings for something.

_Monroe and Connor_, she thought suddenly. _Keep it together, Charlie, or you'll get someone else killed._

Two bodies slid down against the tree alongside them, breathing hard and heavy. Monroe was splattered with blood. Connor didn't look hurt, but he too had blood on him.

Charlie stared down at her own hands. They were clean in a general sense, but in her eyes they were dripping with blood. Jason's blood.

"Where's Nipples?"

Charlie just stared at her hands. She couldn't say the words 'I killed him', so she opted for a different way. "He's dead."

There was a mixture of shocked and uneasy silence for just a moment.

She gripped the gun that was nearest to her knee and shook herself back to life. "Some Patriot here knew his number and activated him. I couldn't snap him out of it." She blew out a breath and then looked up. "What's next?"

Miles looked as though he wanted to say something comforting, but then opted for his usual gruff manner. "We get the hell out of here." He half-crouched and gestured for them to follow. "Come on. The horses are this way."

Charlie shoved everything but running to her horse out of her mind. She couldn't deal with Jason's death right now. Or ever. She'd loved him, despite everything he'd done.

_Why did I waste our last moments together being such a bitch? For that matter, why didn't I keep a closer eye on him? I could've stopped this. I could've saved him._

Her horse was up ahead and she mounted it without thought. Then she was galloping away, letting the wind rush over her face and calm her mind for just a little while.

Dinner was going to be nicer than usual. Gene had managed to swipe some fruit and vegetables from a friend in town, and Rachel had went out and caught some rabbits.

Charlie was distantly impressed. Rachel had actually paid attention to her hunting lessons.

Miles, Connor, and Monroe dismounted and started making their way inside the small building, but Charlie hung back. The thought of faking a smile and making small talk made her want to blow her brains out.

She felt so tired. Tired of life. When was it going to end already? She knew they were all going to die, or at least most of them, but why did it have to be so torturous in the meantime?

This feeling was not something she'd ever wanted to feel again. Not after Nora. Brave, beautiful, genius Nora who was so much more important than Charlie. And Jason who had saved her life more times than she could count.

Both dead, while she was still here. How was that fair?

"Charlie! Dinner," her mother called from a few feet away.

Charlie sighed and swallowed hard. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and gathered herself together, steeling her emotions into a small tight ball that she shoved down inside herself.

_Don't think about how you left Jason's body in that strange building and you'll be fine._

Inside the house, she was actually surprised that with the extra people a lot of the spotlight was taken off her. They all sat around each other, sans table.

Charlie tuned out the small talk as she tried to eat her food. She had absolutely no appetite.

"Where's the Neville boy?"

Charlie froze mid-bite for a moment before forcing herself to act natural. People died. It happened. A flash of Jason's lifeless face crossed her mind and she closed her eyes.

It was Connor who answered. "He turned. Just like everyone knew he would. He's dead." His voice was full of scorn and pride for having predicted the outcome. And more than a little satisfied that some revenge had befallen the boy who had humiliated him in front of everyone. "Tried to kill Charlie."

That got her mom's attention. "He tried to kill you?"

Connor's flippant callous manner was slowly enraging Charlie. How dare he talk about Jason as if he knew him? She kept her eyes on her plate. "He was activated by someone at the gathering."

Miles shook his head. "It was a longshot anyway. Sooner or later those Patriot assholes would have gotten ahold of him and twisted his little brain around."

These words were physically painful to Charlie's heart. To hear Jason talked about this way was intolerable. Especially when Rachel chimed in.

"Well, his father is responsible for Ben's death," she said. "And he betrayed us more times than I can count. I'm sorry, Charlie. I know he was your friend, but maybe this is for the best."

Charlie's hand paused halfway between her plate and her mouth. For the best that she shot her ex-boyfriend in the heart? For the best that Jason had been kicked around his whole life by the one person he loved the most? She put her fork down on her plate. The room was spinning again.

When she spoke her voice was quiet as usual. "Everytime he ever lied to or betrayed me, it was because he loved his family. When you think about it that way, he was the most loyal person I've ever met." She glared at all of them. "And he was a better person than anyone here, that's for sure. He deserved better and all he got was shit, over and over."

Her temper rose higher and higher, but along with that guilt and sadness threatened as well. She stood up and grabbed her belt holding her knife and gun. Her chest was tight and she jerked away from a hand that Miles had reached out to grab her with. "Get off," she hissed, walking away from them.

Where was she going?

_Somewhere I can be alone. Somewhere where no one will talk to me._

That turned out to be a place by the river, about half a mile away. There was a log that she usually sat on to sharpen her blade and do personal hygiene in the mornings. Now she sat on it, gripping the hilt of her large knife in both hands tightly, barely aware that she even had it.

She tried not to cry. Tried desperately, but the flood could not be damned. Her forehead rested against her clasped hands holding the knife, eyes closed, and tears pouring down her cheeks. Maybe she just needed a long hard cry to get everything out. This was the best place to do that-where no one could see or hear her weakness.

God, his eyes kept staring at her. Staring with a tortured accusing look in them that blamed her for not being there for him. It was her fault twice-fold that Jason was dead. What kind of person loved someone and didn't watch out for them?

Just like Danny. She'd let her guard down once and he'd been taken and her father had been killed.

And Nora … she should have fought her mother harder. Should have knocked her out and taken Nora to the infirmary herself.

Now that Jason was dead, it was clear-or at least, she could admit to herself just how much she'd loved Jason. How much his continual betrayal of her had hurt. But, also how much she felt for him, for the desire he'd had to finally gain his father's love and trust. Love and trust which never came, she was sure. He was like a kicked puppy who still ran back to his master when he called.

The tears began drying up, mostly from exhaustion. If someone walked up right now intent on killing her, she was pretty sure they would succeed. Sleep would feel nice right now.

The knife in her hands was heavy and she stared down at it. It would be so easy to just knick the vein in her wrists and bleed out, right here by the river. Going to sleep forever.

That end had to better than whatever one the Patriots had planned for her. Getting a hole in her chest or head … or stomach. Those deaths were less appealing right now.

And let's face it, she thought, my life is pretty worthless. My purpose is to kill. That's it. Miles has mom now. He doesn't need me anymore. Monroe and Connor have each other. Grandpa is probably going to die soon. What do I have? Who do I have?

No one and nothing.

Charlie wasn't entirely sure what she was going to do yet. Her usual bravery was gone. The desire to 'go out swinging' was gone, replaced by the desire to just have all this shit go away.

Jason's face flashed across her mind again, torturing her. It was like her own end was being shown to her. How was she any different from him? The things she'd done for Miles-just so he wouldn't leave her… She loved him. She did everything for him, just because he asked. To impress him so that he wouldn't feel like she was a waste of time.

It was just as pathetic as Jason's continual need for his father's approval. She knew it in her mind. She also knew she wouldn't change. There was a trajectory she was on that couldn't be altered.

A sudden awareness coupled with a the rustling of tree branches told her someone was coming. "If you're here to kill me, you should know that I have a really big knife." The chances that it was someone other than a family member coming to check on her were slim, but in her experience still to be expected.

"I'm not here to kill you," a familiar voice answered.

She scowled. "What do want, Monroe?" She could feel his eyes on her and was suddenly a little embarrassed by the situation. The knife was still gripped tightly in one hand.

"Just checking. You ran off. The Patriots are still around, you know."

"Why didn't Miles or my mom come? Why you?" She hadn't wanted them, but it was strange that Monroe was in their place.

He shrugged and walked closer to the water's edge, staring down at something in the water. "I told them to give me a shot first."

She had to admit, the disappointment that Miles wasn't the one to come here for her was bitter. _Ever since we found Mom…_ "I'm fine. I just wanted to be alone." And just like that, the tears sprang to her eyes again. Monroe's eyes were on her again. "Yeah, I'm crying like a baby, Monroe. I don't freakin' care about your opinion."

Incredibly, he took a seat next to her on the log. Thankfully, it was a big log. "That's good, Charlie. I'm not here to make fun of you. Someone you cared about died. Only a heartless bastard wouldn't cry."

Charlie dug the butt of her knife into her forehead. "Why are you even here? Last I checked, you were pissed at me for screwing Connor." She gave an empty smirk. "I knew it would mess with you-irritate you. You aren't exactly the blank slate you think you are, Monroe."

Monroe stared at her, and she could see his mind whirring, mentally going through every possible explanation for her words.

She rolled her eyes. "Your pissed because you think I'm honing in on your new partner. That I'll somehow steal him away from you, like my mom stole Miles. Admit it."

Monroe's eyes widened barely a fraction before he gave a short laugh. "You're good, Charlie. I'm like an open book, I guess."

"You shouldn't have brought him here." The sudden realization that Connor bore some similarities to Jason made it difficult to breathe for just a second. But, where Jason was stone-cold in his duties and beliefs, Connor was soft. Easy living in Mexico had made him weak-too weak to survive this war.

But, then again, no one was going to survive anyway.

"He's my son." Monroe's voice didn't change, but there was some steel behind it. "He belongs with me."

"Whatever," she muttered, already deciding it was pointless to care. She was exhausted and slid down the log in order to prop herself against it and close her eyes. "God, sometimes I miss Nora. You know, when I first met Connor, I thought it would be cool. Finally, I thought, there's someone here that's close to my age." What a joke.

"Can I see your knife for a minute?"

Charlie opened her eyes and turned around. Monroe was holding a shitty orange and gestured to the metal glinting in her hand. She thought about it and then handed it over. What was wrong with her? She shouldn't be handing over her weapons to Monroe.

She gave a small laugh. "You know, it would be pretty easy to knock me out and slit my wrists or something. With the right acting on your part, they would believe that you found me here bleeding out." She stared back at him. "I know you've thought about killing me-or my mom, especially lately." Rachel was being a pain in the ass about the cadets.

Monroe laughed and shook his head. "You are really messed up, you know that?" The blade sliced cleanly through the orange peel in the practiced movements of one who was well acquainted with knives. He _could_ kill her right now and no one would know.

Charlie shrugged and turned back to stare at the water laid out in front of her. "It's true. Me or my mom's death would do it. Miles would be so pissed off-especially if it was her-and you'd have him right in your little pocket. If I were you I'd go with her though. He loves her more." It was more self-pity, and less desire to see her mother die by Monroe's hand that was prompting these statements.

"Miles loves you too."

"You know, sometimes I think I feel like you do. Like she took him away. It used to be just us, you know. But, the other part of me is happy that he has her because that means that he won't leave. And I can breathe again." Then a scowl marred her features. "And then I feel pissed off that I've done all this shit-_horrible_ shit-for him, because he wanted me to and now it doesn't matter. He doesn't care anymore. I'm just some," don't say weapon, "tool to keep around and pull out when he needs an extra hand to kill someone." Where was all this coming from and why was she telling Monroe? She gave a laugh and turned around to face him. He looked sad. "And now I see you, sitting here, and I'm suddenly realizing that Miles is going to do whatever he's going to do and the rest of us are going to be chasing him down forever-forever being the next year or so. So, what's the point? I might as well do what I want." She settled back against the log, feeling like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

Feelings were heavy.

Monroe cleared his throat. "Kid, I know where this all coming from. You love your uncle and your mom. You might not believe me, but over time, this kid's death won't be as painful. It'll still be there, but somehow, you won't think about it as much. It's better that way." He looked down at the ground. "You've had a tough go of it this past year. It's all coming down on you right now, but you can't lose focus, Charlie. You didn't kill Jason. The Patriots did. _You_ set him free from the cage they put him in. He gave up everything because of his feelings for you, Charlie. His family, his allegiance to me… Sure he went back to Neville, but it was his father. A bond between father and son is not something that can be easily broken."

Charlie had to admit, way down deep inside, that his words did make her feel a little better. But, at the last line, she rolled her eyes. "You don't have to keep trying to stake your claim, Monroe. I'm not interested in breaking any bonds between you and Connor. I slept with him _once_," she snapped. "In Vegas. If I had known then that I would have to keep hearing about it over and over, I would have went to the bar instead."

"Don't give me that shit, Charlie." Monroe's tone wasn't angry. "You just admitted you screwed him on purpose because you knew it would annoy me. What, now you've changed your mind?"

"Maybe," she said shortly. "Maybe annoying you just isn't that much fun anymore."

"I think you're depressed, Charlie, and in shock. I know how you feel. I've lost everyone I've ever loved in my entire life. You probably don't think I'm capable of love, do you? I am. This," he said, gesturing at himself, "is just a result of that. It's necessary to be hard and ruthless in order to survive in this shithole world." He tossed the knife so that it stuck in the ground next to her leg. "So, either you gotta be that way and decide to live and get these Patriot bastards back for what they've done to the people you love, or else just kill yourself now."

Did he know what she'd been thinking of doing? Was she still thinking that way? She didn't pick up the knife. "I'll tell you what, Monroe. You followed me all this way to check up on me-make sure I don't do anything that doesn't fit into your little plan for world domination. I don't know what this is all about yet, but I will. In the meantime, you give me one good reason not to slit my own throat and I won't." She was just playing with him now. She'd already decided she didn't want to die.

Monroe didn't say anything and she goaded him. "Come on, Master of Manipulation. I want to see you at work-in your element." She gave him a snide smirk and tilted her head to the side, waiting for him to get pissed off and leave. "Nothing?"

"Charlie, I don't know what you're talking about. I've never manipulated you."

"Please," she said, cutting him off. "You manipulate everyone. You're an evil genius and probably the only one of us who's going to survive this mess. Keeping Rachel alive all those years was smart. Not only did you have the woman who turned the lights off at your disposal, but you had the only thing that Miles ever cared about. If you had killed her, we wouldn't be talking like this right now."

Monroe looked at her incredulously, and was there just a hint of fear? "You really have a shitstorm going on in there, don't you? As flattered as I am by your assessment of me being an evil genius, you're wrong. I didn't kill Rachel because she and I used to be friends-sort of. And yes, Miles loves her. He's loved her since before you were born. I'm not a monster, Charlie."

Charlie just gave him a look. "And what about Connor?"

He tensed. "What about him?"

"Telling him that you were going to get the Republic back was a big reason that he followed you back here, right? And with one other person on your side to help you with that goal, well, that's one more person that you had before, right?"

"What makes you think I want the Republic-okay, fine I do. What's wrong with that? If the Republic was around, these Patriot assholes wouldn't be here. With an army at our disposal we could crush them and take back our land."

Charlie brushed that aside. "Saving me so that I would bring you to Miles? Finding those wanted posters … I did just what you wanted me to do."

Monroe raised an eyebrow. "Well, you must have thought I was right on some level because you did bring me to Miles, and you talked your mom into saving my life, and you saved me again in New Vegas."

Charlie didn't like the way he ticked off the number of times she'd done things for him, and disliked him crouching down in front of her even less.

"You want me to give you a reason to live?" he asked quietly. "I'll do you better than that. I'll give you two. The first reason that you shouldn't slit your own throat is vengeance, pure and simple. People think that it doesn't solve anything, Charlie, but it does. It makes you feel so much better. And when you're choking the life out of the bastard that turned Jason Neville into a robot, forcing you to kill him in defense of yourself, you'll know I'm right."

Stupid tears pricked her eyes again.

"Second reason-friends and family. A lot of people died, Charlie. Your dad, brother, Nora, Jason. Most of them died for you, because they thought you were worth dying for. Are you going to end it now when you've accomplished nothing? Or are you going to do something with your life and make sure they didn't die in vain?"

They stared at each other and part of Charlie want to hit him for what he said. The other part realized he was right, and that she hadn't thought that way before. Now, she'd never be able to think any other way. People _had_ died for her-because of her.

"Now," he continued, "are you done screwing with me? Let's go. Everyone will keep their mouths shut about the kid." He stood up and for some reason Charlie knew it would be childish to stay. She grabbed her knife and put it back in her belt.

"You know what everyone I love who's died has in common, Monroe? They all hated and tried to kill you."

Incredibly, Monroe grinned. "One step at a time, Charlotte. Pace yourself."

She scowled. He was back to calling her Charlotte. "I know you do that to annoy me."

He stopped, the same grin still on his face. "Well, it ain't screwing a close family member, but it'll have to do."

_Touche_, she thought with a resigned expression. "You never did anything when my mom was with you all those years? I find that hard to believe."

"She's not my type."

"But, it would have pissed Miles off," she reminded him.

"What's with this newfound hatred of Miles?"

She didn't hate her uncle. She couldn't. He was the coolest, most badass person she knew. Besides Monroe. The badass part anyway. Monroe wasn't that cool. "Nothing," she muttered. "I'm sick of talking about it."

"Oh, you mean the last five minutes of your life that you've actually opened up? Yeah, I can see why you'd be sick of talking. Can you shut up already? You're talking my ear off."

Unwillingly, she cracked a smile.

Without knowing it, they were back at camp. She didn't want anyone to know she'd been crying or that what they'd said had bothered her. "The way they were all talking about Jason before…" It wasn't right. His haunted face appeared in her mind, the way it had looked that last day he was himself, desperately wanting to make amends. "It's the worst part." She couldn't take it. It was like they were defaming his memory. "He might have betrayed me-a lot-but I never hated for him for it because I knew why he did it. For love."

Family hurt. Love hurt. She wished she could leave them, especially now when she felt raw.

But, she wouldn't.

"I think you're a secret romantic, Charlie."

She glanced quickly at him, making sure he wasn't making fun of her. He wasn't. She shrugged. "If you're going to do something awful that you can't live with, it might as well be for love." By that logic, she couldn't hold building the amplifier over her mom's head anymore. Choosing her kids over the world was a no-brainer to most people.

What would she have done in the same position? What if it had been Miles with a gun pointed at his head, or Danny? Would she have been so noble then?

Probably not.

Miles walked up to her and Monroe snuck off without her realizing it. "Where'd you go, kid? I was worried." He did look worried. His eyes took in everything about her face. Then he looked down, giving his signature careless shrug. "Listen, I'm sorry about what I said. About Jason. As much as he irritated the shit out of me, I kinda liked him. He was brave and had a moral code that you just don't see anymore. At least, I don't. Except for you, I mean. I wish-" he stopped, unable to voice his wishes since they could never come to pass. "If you were going to be with anyone, I just wish-"

Charlie nodded tightly, and tears filled her eyes again. Why was she ever mad at him? Now she felt guilty. His face fell at her tears and he wrapped his arms around her shoulders. This was what she needed. Ever since her dad died she hadn't had much of this. She sniffed and wiped her eyes. "You know Miles, you would have made a good dad." She thought about Nora and her miscarriage. "Maybe one day I'll have a cousin?" She made a face. "Or a new sibling."

Miles gave a smirk and draped an arm around her shoulder as they walked toward a fire. Her mom and Grandpa were sitting there. "You never know, kid. Maybe one day when all this bullshit is over, you'll get your wish."

They both knew that day would never come, but it was nice to dream for just a moment.


	2. Chapter 2

**So, it was between this fic or my other Revolution fic and I picked this one to expand. Not committing to anything yet since I have a couple other stories I'm already in for blood and soul. Haha, just kidding. I am swamped though and cannot reliably update, BUT it won't stop me for **_**sporadically**_** updating. :)**

**I'm going to try and tone down the angst in this chapter, but still, my Charlie that I like is an introverted one. Not a loudmouth chick who always wants to fight. That's just how I like her. BUT in the show she does get into with Monroe a bit so I'll try and balance it. **

**Charlie is definitely depressed in this fic, and if anyone has seen Buffy, I'm sort of taking inspiration from Season 6, I believe, where she comes back from the dead and starts banging Spike after awhile just feel something. I'm taking a more romantic (maybe) turn on it, but the inspiration is still there. ALSO, I'm going to be just making things up willy-nilly according to what I want, so this might not follow the rest of season 2. Like, I hate the Patriots, and Neville, and the Nano. Super hate the Nano. Def killing Neville first chance I get. Getting rid of everything else, also, eventually. I'M BURNING IT DOWN! enjoy **

Charlie wasn't able to sleep for long. Sometime around five in the morning, she woke up and went downstairs to make some coffee. Monroe was the only one awake, sitting at the kitchen table, already drinking some.

She mentally cursed him for being an insomniac. After last night, the last thing she wanted was to face him after blubbering like a baby. She turned red when she remembered she had basically considered killing herself. He'd known it too.

Without making eye contact, she went to the cabinet and pulled out a mug.

"There's some more in the thermos," Monroe's hoarse voice sounded behind her.

She silently took the thermos and poured a cup only halfway at first. Weren't they almost out? Rachel would have to make a strip to town soon for more supplies. If they had to wage war on the former American government, she'd perform a helluva lot better with caffeine. Selfishly, she topped off the mug and put the thermos back on the counter.

Sitting at the table with Monroe was out of the question, so she did what she normally did in these situations and took her coffee to the darkened living room, adjacent to the kitchen. She always sat in the chair by the fireplace, right across from the window that faced the direction of Willoughby. If anyone came from that direction she would see them.

Well, in theory, she'd hear them first. It was still too dark to see anything.

She took a sip and grudgingly realized that Monroe really made good coffee. She didn't like it when he did things … good.

"There's sugar if you want," he said from his place in the kitchen.

Great. Now because of last night he thought they were friends. She swallowed her annoyance. "I drink it black."

"Me too."

"I know," she said sharply. God, they'd been around each other for weeks now. She knew how he took his damn coffee.

"Oh? I'm flattered."

He was trying to rile her up. He had to be. Otherwise, he'd just sit there and shut the hell up, she thought. But she couldn't not rise to the bait. He couldn't think she paid special attention to his drinking habits.

She expelled a breath. "Miles takes his with milk and sugar. Mom likes her with just milk. Grandpa drinks his black. Connor hates coffee and prefers milk in the mornings."

Monroe cracked a smile and nodded, holding a hand up in mock surrender. "Alright, alright I get it." Then he gave a small smile as he took a drink of his coffee and she realized he _had_ done that on purpose to annoy her.

How childish.

"Do you know how to fight, Charlie?" he asked casually.

She looked at him in confusion. She literally fought people all the time. How could he ask that?

He glanced at her face and saw her confusion. "I mean, has Miles ever trained you in hand-to-hand combat?"

"Why do you want to know that?" She was always suspicious whenever he showed too much interest in something. It was usually not good.

"Been thinking." He finished off his coffee and set the mug down quietly.

"Why?"

He turned in his chair and put a hand on his outside leg. The other he rested on the corner of the table. "What if someone comes at you and you don't have a weapon? You shoot good and you can handle a knife, but what about if you don't have one?"

She rolled his eyes. "I can handle myself, Monroe."

"Knowing how to take someone down without killing them is a useful thing to know. All I'm saying."

"Shit, Bass. What the hell are you bringing that up for?" Miles snapped, coming down the stairs looking cranky as usual. "Leave her alone. She's fine."

Monroe shrugged and let it go, but Charlie didn't stop thinking about what he said. He'd obviously been talking about what had happened with Jason? Had there been something she could've done to save his life?

She watched as Miles went down to the basement to get the milk from the hole they'd dug in the ground to keep cold stuff cold. You always had to smell it first, and it wasn't fool proof, but they'd had luck with some perishable stuff.

A sudden urge to rebel blossomed inside her and she sat back in her chair, staring at her coffee cup and thinking about what Monroe had said. She was interested. Was it because she knew it would piss off Miles?

Probably.

But not all.

Who was Miles to make decisions for her anyway? He wasn't her dad.

She got up and went to the kitchen. Monroe's eyes watched her as she swallowed the rest of her coffee and put the mug in the sink. Miles came up from the basement and grunted a hello to her and then went about making his own coffee.

"How you doing, kid?" he asked.

"Fine."

"Good. I'm taking your mom into town today to get more supplies. You need anything?"

"No. Isn't that dangerous? Won't someone see you?"

"Not if I'm careful." He took his cup and sat down at the table across from his former best friend.

"Why do you have to take her? Can't she go by herself?"

"I've got business there. Might be someone willing to spy on the Patriots for us."

"Who?" Monroe asked sharply, his full attention directed at Miles.

Miles snorted. "Like I'd tell you."

"It could be a trap," she warned.

Miles gave her a long-suffering look. "I know that, Charlie, but it's a risk we have to take. Your mom is going to hit up her contact and while she's doing that I'm going to take a look at this potential spy. See if he's legit."

"Why can't I come?" She tried hard not to sound whiny, but the last thing she wanted to do was stay home all day and think of Jason.

Miles eyed her critically, up and down. "No."

She looked affronted. "And why not?"

"You had a … big day yesterday. You need to rest and take some time to process-"

"Are you for real?" she interrupted.

He must have sensed her change in mood was not for the better, and stood up taking his mug with him. "You're not going. That's final." Then he walked back upstairs and she heard his door shut. Well, it was actually her mom's door, but they were sharing a room now, among other things. She stared after him, clenching her jaw.

What an enormous ass.

"Why were you asking me all that stuff about fighting?" she asked suddenly.

Monroe shrugged. "I know some stuff."

She swivelled her head to look at him. "Like, you mean, you want to teach me things?"

He answered slowly. "If you wanted to, I could-"

"Sure," she answered. "Sounds like fun. When do we start?"

"Miles won't like it."

She knew a challenge when she heard one. "Do you care?"

"Not really."

"Me neither."

He nodded. "Okay. We can start while Rachel and Miles are in town."

"Good. Maybe you could teach me how to punch Miles in the face." Charlie got up from the table and went outside the back way to cool off before everyone else woke up.

XXXXX

"Let me see you throw a punch."

Charlie eyed Monroe and looked determinedly at the target: the right hand he was holding up, open faced. She landed a blow square in the center of his palm.

"Okay, now with your other fist."

She obeyed, which was a strange feeling. Doing what Monroe told her to do.

He lowered his eyes to her feet and circled her critically. "Widen your stance. Move your left leg a bit in front of your right and turn your body. There." He walked back around and stood in front of her, raising his hands again. The day was already hot and sweat was beginning to tinge his shirt collar. "Hit me again."

This time, she was surprised to feel the difference. Her punch was more forceful than before. Maybe he did know what he was talking about.

"Good. Again."

He made her practice for an hour, until she couldn't lift her arms anymore. Everytime she messed up her stance, he stopped and corrected her. She thought he would be a horrible teacher, mean and snide, but he wasn't. Strange.

"Are we done yet? It's been an hour. I'm dying."

Monroe lowered his hands and rolled his shoulders. "You can take a five minute break and then we switch."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "What, you mean you're going to punch me?"

"I'm going to teach to block a punch," he corrected. "Go get water."

Oh god, what had she gotten herself into? And she couldn't quit. Hell no, he'd think she was weak. But getting punched over and over by Monroe was not something she was looking forward to.

Five minutes passed like seconds and then she was back in front of Monroe. She pulled back her hair into a ponytail to cool off the back of her neck and then stretched a bit.

"Alright, let me see how you would normally block a punch to the face without any training."

Charlie put her hands up but she'd never really thought about it before. When people were trying to hit her, she just reacted. Monroe raised his arms and jabbed at her face with his right fist. She managed to duck backwards and avoid being caught.

"Good, but that move will eventually land you in the dirt. Stand how I showed you. Use your body to absorb the blow and block it." He moved toward her and positioned her arms the way he wanted. Then he kicked her left foot a bit in front of her right one. "Stay like that always."

She did as she was told and went to hit her again. This time she settled her weight on her right leg and kept her hands up in front of her face. Monroe's punch glanced off her forearm instead of her cheekbone.

An hour later, her arms were banged up and she was exhausted. Connor had taken a seat under the shade tree a half hour earlier with an apple and just watched them. She had the annoying feeling he was laughing at her every time Monroe almost put her in the dirt. Probably upset by what had happened the night before.

Now he'd decided to saunter over and do more than just watch. He started by pointing things out she was doing wrong, then graduated to giving his dad pointers. Monroe took it all instride and Charlie ignored him.

"You're not even using your full strength," he complained to Monroe.

Monroe swung at her using his left hand this time and Charlie effectively dodged and moved to the side, forcing Monroe to change his position also. She'd known he wasn't using his full strength. She'd felt his full strength before and was grateful, although she'd never let him know that.

"This is just practice," Monroe said evenly, keeping his eyes trained on the girl in front of him. "Connor, don't you have something to do? Like somewhere else?"

"No." He made a face and crossed his arms over his chest. "There's nothing to do in this craphole."

This craphole is my grandpa's house, she wanted to say, but continued to ignore him.

"You should stick to knives," he said, with more than a little malice in his tone.

That was it. Charlie put her hands down and looked at him. "Okay, tough guy, why don't you show me how much better than me you are."

Connor grinned. "What do I get when I win?"

She made a face. "My respect. You ready?"

Monroe stepped quietly aside to watch. "Remember your stance, Charlie. Hands up."

She remembered. Part of her realized that while she was exhausted, Connor had been relaxing all morning and was as fresh as a daisy. But she'd been damned if she'd let him win. "What are the rules?"

He took off his shirt and tossed it aside. She wondered if he'd done that to show off. She didn't care. "First one to knock the other one in the dirt wins."

"Okay," she said evenly.

"Only punches," he added.

"Fine."

He grinned, obviously thinking he'd already won. She did everything Monroe had been showing her all morning. Her stance was great. Connor wasted no time lunging at her, forcing her back. She realized Monroe had been holding back a lot. He came at her full force, hitting her hard across her left cheekbone. She stumbled, clutching her face as pain exploded everywhere.

He wanted to hurt her, she realized, straightening up and narrowing her eyes.

He shrugged with a snotty smile. "Sorry."

He wasn't sorry. "I've been hit harder," she taunted, whipping up her arms to block his incoming blows. Her face was fine, but he managed to get her right in the ribs. She refused to cry out though. But maybe if he thought he hurt her…

She hunched over for a long moment and sniffed as if she was crying. She felt him come close.

"I didn't hit you that hard, did I?"

Before he realized what she was doing, she swung her fist and hit him hard across the face causing him to stumble backwards and almost fall.

"You bitch!" he hissed, wiping some blood off a gash beside his left eyebrow.

She widened her eyes in innocence. "I didn't hit you that hard, did I?"

Now he came at her full force and it was all she could do to block him. Only punches, she remembered desperately wanting to kick his legs out from under him, but also wanting to win.

"Alright, enough!"

She heard Monroe but Connor either didn't or refused to listen. She was thinking of her next move when Connor was suddenly yanked backwards. She saw Monroe holding him by the back of his neck.

"I said enough."

"We weren't finished," Connor protested.

"I'm finishing it. I've got better things to do than stand in the sun all day watching your pissing contest. Go cool off," he ordered.

Connor shot her a dirty look and then stomped away. Charlie winced as she touched her ribs.

Monroe laughed which surprised her. She'd thought he was angry. "You did a pretty good job," he admitted, tossing her canteen of water.

She glared at him.

"No, really. You blocked almost everything he threw at you. You're a fast learner, Charlie."

She took a long drink from the canteen and then screwed the cap back on. "Thanks," she muttered.

Just then, she spotted Rachel and Miles walking up. They both saw Monroe and her and started walking over.

Miles looked between them. "What's going on?"

"Did you _hit_ her?" Rachel asked.

"We're just sparring," Monroe answered.

"I wanted to." Charlie wished she didn't feel the need to explain herself, but she didn't want another fight. She also didn't want to tell them it was actually Connor who'd hit her.

Miles and Rachel looked at her in surprise and then looked at each other.

"What?" Charlie demanded.

"Why would you want to … do whatever it is you're doing with him?" Rachel asked.

Charlie shrugged. "I was bored. Can you stop making it such a big deal?"

"A big deal? Honey, you're bleeding!"

Charlie dodged her hand. "Stop it, I'm fine. Did you get any food? I'm starving." And then she walked away, back to the house, smiling a little. The last couple hours had been fun.

XXXXX

She didn't know why, but after dinner she walked off again, to the same spot she'd went to after Jason died. She needed to be alone without her mom always watching her and she especially didn't want to be around Connor.

But guess who showed up anyway?

"What do you want?" she asked, turning to see Connor step out from behind a tree. He came closer.

"I wanted to apologize for earlier. I didn't mean to go at you like that."

She shrugged. "I'm fine."

He came even closer, this time sitting down next to her on her log. "I'm still sorry. I … guess I have a temper."

She just really wanted him to leave. "We're good. Seriously. You can go now."

"Come on, Charlie." He touched her cheek and she turned her head to look at him. "I've missed you."

Then she realized what he was doing here. "Are you for real? You want sex?"

"You don't?"

No, was on the tip of her tongue, but she considered it for a moment. Did she? Connor was good for relieving tension. He took her hesitation as a Yes and leaned in to kiss her.

He wasn't a bad kisser, she admitted, slowly kissing him back, wanting to lose herself for a just a little while. He wasn't even bad in bed. The senoritas down south must've been good teachers.

But then she remembered how he'd talked about Jason, and the look in his eyes as he came at her earlier today. He'd wanted to physically _hurt_ her. There was also a myriad of other things that she just didn't like about him.

If she slept with him now, it would mean she'd lost absolutely all self-respect. And she hadn't.

She broke away. "No, I don't want to."

"What? Why?"

"I just don't want to."

"What's your problem?" he asked angrily. "Is it that guy?"

"It has nothing to do with Jason. I'm tired."

He tried to persuade her by kissing her neck, but she pushed him away. "Go away," she said more firm. "I'm not in the mood."

"Fine," he snapped and jumped up. "You know, you're not the only girl around."

She snorted. "You could give my mom a try, but I think Miles might kill you."

He gritted his teeth. "I mean in town. There plenty of girls there who'd love a chance with me."

"Yeah, go find one of them." She was _so_ done with him.

"Connor, you there?"

They both turned toward the voice and saw Monroe. "What?" Connor snapped.

"Gotta talk to you about something. In private." He motioned his thumb back toward the house.

Connor looked between him and Charlie and then stomped off angrily. Monroe didn't leave right away.

"Did you follow me?" she asked suspiciously.

He gave a humorless smile. "Not you."

What did that mean? He'd followed Connor? Why?

"Don't worry," she said drily. "I didn't touch him." Would never touch him again, actually.

"Yeah, I noticed. Kid's pretty angsty."

"That's one word for it," she muttered, breaking up a twig and tossing the pieces absently.

Monroe turned to leave, but she suddenly needed to know something. "Hey."

He turned back.

"What's your problem with me?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

She gestured with her hand. "You act like your precious son will catch the plague if he's around me too long. Why?" She was genuinely curious.

He considered his answer for a few seconds. "It's just not a good idea."

"Why not?" He was uncomfortable, she realized, and now really wanted to know.

"Say it doesn't work out. What do you think Miles would do? Or your mom?"

"Who cares?"

"I do."

She stared at him. "No. That's not it. At least not all of it."

He moved closer to her. "Why do you care about my opinion so bad?"

"I like to know things. And a tiny part of me thinks-and I know this is insane-but thinks that _you_ might think I'm not good enough for him, or something. Which is laughable."

He cocked an eyebrow. "That's not it."

"That what is?"

He rolled his tongue around his mouth and then nodded. "Okay, Charlie, you win. You wanna know why I don't want the two of you together?"

"Yeah."

"Here it is. He's my son. The son I didn't even know that I had until a few weeks ago. I want things for him, things you can't give."

She frowned. "Like what, a Republic?" she half-mocked.

"No, like a family. A peaceful existence. A normal life."

She wasn't sure she heard him right. "Why do you think I don't want those things too?"

"So, after we kick the Patriot's out, you're just going to … what?" He gestured at her. "Put down your guns and your knives and go play Susie Homemaker? Pop out a five or six kids, have dinner on the table by six every night?" He snorted.

She blinked. Then jabbed a finger into his chest. "No, I'll tell you what I'm going to do, Monroe. After we kick the Patriot's out, I'm going to help Miles crush your dreams of becoming an evil overlord again. That's what you're planning, right?"

"Better the devil you know," he shrugged.

She sneered up at him. "You finally admit you're the Devil."

"I wouldn't be too sure about Miles, if I were you," Monroe said, voice calm as usual. "He's got Rachel on his shoulder playing the angel for now, but don't forget, Charlie. He's the one who started the Monroe Republic. Everyone seems to forget that."

She moved even closer to him. "You know what I think, Monroe?" She dropped her voice. "I think that the real reason you don't want me with your son is because you know I'll take him away from you. I'll persuade him he's crazy to follow you. That he's better off with me."

Now she saw anger glinting in his eyes and a muscle in his jaw ticked. Lightening fast, he grabbed the finger that was jabbing into his chest and cranked it hard. She gasped in pain and he spun her around, pushing her hard against the base of the nearest tree. Her arm twisted behind her back.

"Let me go," she told him, trying to wriggle out of his grip.

"Stop moving or I'll break your arm," he warned, pressing the side of his body against hers to hold her in place.

"Screw you."

Despite what he'd said about breaking her arm, he did loosen his grip a fraction so that she wasn't in pain, just uncomfortable.

"That mouth," he said, and she felt his breath on her neck. "You can go days without saying anything, then when you finally talk you just…" He snorted and shook his head.

"Let go of me," she gritted out.

"No," he said, pressing harder against her so that her cheek dug into the tree. "You think I'm the Devil and yet the way you speak to me says otherwise." He cocked his head to look at the side of her very angry face. "Show a little more respect, Charlie."

She should be scared, but wasn't. Not really. Her heart was thudding against her ribcage hard. She was sure he could hear. "I can't show what I don't have."

He chuckled and moved so just the barest amount of space was between them. Then he turned her around and shoved her backwards, hard, so that her back hit the rough bark.

"You think you can beat some respect into me?" she asked, breathless from adrenaline. "Here's an idea. Let go of me … and I won't tell Miles." She gave a sickly sweet smile.

He looked over her face and said, "Always running to Miles. Tell me, after he marries your mom and they ride off into the sunset-you gonna follow them?"

Now it was her turn to get pissed off. "They're my family."

"Yeah, but I mean, your mom had spend all those years pretending to love your dad. Then the Blackout happened and she spent all those years as my prisoner with Miles thinking she was dead. You don't think they're gonna want a little alone time?"

What he said was all true and things she'd told herself a million times. After the Patriots were gone, they'd leave her to start their own lives somewhere else. Somewhere nice.

She looked up at him. His face was very close. "Well … what are _you_ going to do without Miles? You've spent your whole life chasing him."

He was just messing around with her before, trying to shake her up a little. But his eyes darted down to her mouth and then everything changed. Charlie was very aware of every inch of skin that was pressed together. Her shirt had ridden up a bit and she could feel the fabric from his shirt pressed against her stomach. And underneath that shirt…

What the hell was she thinking?

"I need him to win against the Patriots. After that, he can do what he wants," Monroe said, taking a step back. He looked a bit wary now and she wondered if he knew that for a split second she'd thought about … things.

Wow, she was really screwed up.

Before she could slip away, his arm came down and blocked her exit. "Don't even think about turning my son against me," he warned.

She knocked his arm away and then pushed him back. He let himself be moved. "Stay away from me."

As she walked away, he called, "So … we still on for tomorrow?"

She almost laughed. He still wanted to train her in hand-to-hand? She shrugged and kept walking. "Maybe."


	3. Chapter 3

**Lemon alert**** **

**Straight ahead**

**EDIT: I've updated this chapter cuz there were parts that were cringey as far as grammar and wording.**

Monroe pushed her up against the tree, hard. She winced in pain when her back scraped against the rough bark. "Let go of me."

"No. _You_ need to learn some respect."

"From you? Hah!" she sneered.

"Charlie," he warned, pushing her harder against the tree. "Don't test me."

She was breathless, chest heaving. Her breasts flattened against his chest, and suddenly they were both very aware of the how close they were. Monroe's hands moved from her shoulders to her waist. Her heart pounded.

"What are you doing?" she asked hoarsely, suddenly unable to speak normally.

His thumb moved in slow circles on bare skin under her shirt. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

"I… well, _stop_."

Instead of going away, he moved closer, running his hands from her waist to her rear to lift her up against the tree. He wedged his body in between her legs and molded himself against her. Her senses were assaulted on all fronts. The feel of him against her, his smell-like the outside, the look in his eyes as if he would devour her.

Then his mouth was on hers and everything burst inside her. Every reservation, every voice telling her to stop, everything. She wanted only him in that moment. She hungrily opened her mouth to him and sought out his tongue with hers, kissing and stroking as if she couldn't get enough of him. He tasted so good. She moaned into his mouth, running her hands over his face and neck and chest.

The he gripped her hips and lifted her up and off the tree. She slid down him to stand. Her jacket came off as did her shirt and bra. Then his hands were on her breasts and she arched into him.

Monroe broke off the kiss. "Charlie … we can still stop this," he panted.

She doubted that. Her hands found his belt buckle and she tugged. He took that as her answer and drew her down to the ground with him. Clothes came off quickly after that, until the hard length of his body covered hers.

There was no time for foreplay. She spread her legs and put him inside her, crying out when he filled her completely. He drove into her, hard and fast, until she couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't speak. His muscles contracted under her hands.

"I'm gonna come," he murmured, finding her mouth again and kissing her long and hard as he thrust into her.

Hearing those words and knowing it was _Monroe_ who said them pushed Charlie over the edge. She arched, gripping him tight as waves of ecstasy washed over her from head to toe.

Charlie bolted upright in bed, hot and sticky between her legs, and totally mortified.

But not as much as she should be after having a sex dream about Monroe.

XXXXX

Bass sat quietly by himself, off to the side in the living room. Charlie hadn't come downstairs yet which left him time to think.

What in the holy hell had happened last night?

Things had spiraled so far, so fast, and now he didn't really know what to do about it. He should've went after Connor, that was the first thing he'd screwed up. Being alone with Charlie…

He should've walked away when she'd started goading him about turning Connor against him. He'd lost his temper. Second thing he screwed up.

But then for one brief moment, he'd sworn he'd seen … desire in her eyes. That was crazy, though.

Wasn't it?

Everything in the air around them had changed from him attempting to teach her a lesson to him noticing how close they were. How she felt under his hands. That look in her eye.

But it had disappeared so quickly he wasn't sure that he'd seen and felt what he'd actually seen and felt.

Before he'd pushed her into the tree, she'd asked him what his problem was with her and Connor being together. He'd told her the truth, for there were several reasons, but he'd held back answers, too.

Sick, dark, twisted answers that would make her look at him in horror.

Wanting to fuck your best friends niece, corrupt her, turn her against everything she believed in, including her family, was sick and twisted.

But he did. Ever since she'd had a gun to her head back in Philadelphia. She'd caught his attention with her willingness to die for her family, her bravery, her guts. It didn't hurt matters that she was beautiful. Prettier than Rachel ever had been, he snorted.

But he'd never acted on those desires, ever. He'd kept them mostly hidden away, locked up where no one would ever see. Until last night, when he'd come _so close_ to letting his darkest secret spill out for her to see.

He shuddered at the thought of what would've happened to him had he lost control. He'd be dead right now, for sure. Miles would hack his head right off his shoulders.

But all that aside, he was mostly afraid of what Charlie would say, how she would look at him, if she really knew what he wanted from her.

His ears perked when he heard light footsteps coming down the stairs. Charlie.

She looked tired. He wondered if thinking about their encounter last night had kept her up like it had him.

Rachel and her dad made small talk, handed her a cup of coffee, but she took it outside instead of drinking it in the kitchen as she usually did. He watched her walk over to the shade tree and sit down at his base.

"Bass."

He snapped to look at Miles.

"Where's your kid?" Miles walked over and took a seat next to him.

"Outside. Why?"

"The guy I got in Willoughby said some new cadets are being taken to one those … I don't know, brainwashing centers in two days. We can intercept them before they get on the train."

Bass didn't really give a shit about those kids. In fact, he'd feel much better putting a bullet in every single last one of their heads, but that wasn't something he could let Miles know. Not if he wanted his friend to join him after the Patriots were gone. "If we can save those kids, let's do it. I'm in. What's your plan?"

"Teams of two. Ambush the security detail guarding the kids, capture for interrogation. If we can find the place they take them, we can blow it up so they can't use it again."

Bass rubbed his face at the stupidity of that plan. "_Or_, and just hear me out, we sneak onto the train and ride it out to the processing center where we then proceed to blow it up."

"Because that means putting those kids at risk. We have no idea what's waiting for us at that place, or how many guards."

"So we go there, scope it out, and come back." Monroe gave a disbelieving laugh. What the hell had Rachel _done_ to him?

Miles was getting pissed off. "And leave the kids there in the meantime? No, Bass, I'm not doing it."

"It's smart."

And then, of course, Rachel decided to put her two cents in. "Bass, the objective is to save the kids from being tortured, not go in guns blazing and see how many people you can kill."

"My way is the best way to save them." Bass glared at her, the eternal Yoko. "We blow up a train and send the kids back home, then what? The Patriots grab them again and send them somewhere else. Only this time, they're ready for us and security is tightened. Or they ambush us somewhere and then it's over for everyone."

Everyone fell silent after that, knowing that what Bass said was true, but hating it.

"I still think we should find a way to keep the kids out of it," Rachel said.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Charlie making her way back to the house. Connor was following her. God, those two. "Let's ask Charlie. See what she thinks," he suggested. He was almost completely sure she'd side with him, as she had been doing lately.

That thought made him smile.

She came inside and shut the door, eyeing the three from the living room entryway. "What's going on?" she asked warily.

Bass watched her and noticed that though her eyes flickered to his, they shifted away immediately. Strange. "Tell her."

So Miles told her his plan, and then related what Bass wanted to do. Charlie's face sharpened in concentration she moved closer.

"So what do you think, kid?" Miles asked, throwing up a hand and looking tired, as usual.

"Do we know how long it takes for the Patriots to fully _re-educate_ a cadet?" she asked, perching on the edge of the couch.

Rachel shook her head. "Not exactly, but I know it's more than just a few days. Maybe weeks or months? They probably gives these kids some very intense mind altering drugs-and back before the Blackout, they'd subject people to intense images and patterns of color, etc. I don't really know what they're doing now."

Miles spoke up. "I'm thinking they don't have time to wait months to brainwash someone. They must've found a way to accelerate the process. You're probably right about the drugs."

Charlie thought for a moment. "What if there was someone on the inside, in one of these centers, who could buy some time for the cadets while we form a plan?"

"Oh, well Charlie that'd be great," Miles said sarcastically, "but we don't have time to turn one those kids to our side."

Watching her carefully, Bass suddenly knew what she was proposing. And it was fucking brilliant. And dangerous. "She doesn't mean one of them … do you, Charlie?"

Charlie looked at him quickly, and then Miles and Rachel. "I've done it before."

Miles jumped to his feet. "_What? _No. Absolutely not."

"Why not? I look young enough. I can steal some clothes from town and blend in with the others. It worked before."

"The Militia was different," he snapped. "I _knew_ the Militia, how they worked, and it was for only a few hours. This is something none of us can control. And have you forgotten what happened to you in there?" He gestured at her wrist and Bass saw her rub the inside, remembering the pain, most likely.

Most of him felt bad about the branding, even though he'd known nothing about it at the time, and couldn't have possibly stopped it from happening. But there was a tiny part of him that wanted to see what his mark looked like on her body. Sick, he knew.

"Look, while I'm getting on the train with the other cadets, the rest of you hide and follow it to the re-education center. Scope it out and then come back here. I'll do my best to keep the kids safe while we wait for you guys to come back and blow it all to hell."

"And how will you know to get out in time," Rachel asked, hands on hips. "At the first sign of trouble, the whole place will go on lockdown and you'll never get out."

"How about we set a date? One week from the time that train arrives at the location."

Miles sighed and rubbed his face tiredly. He was _always_ tired it seemed. "Charlie, it's a good plan. It really is. If you weren't family, I'd say go for it, but you _are_ family. And I'm not letting you do it. I'm not risking you getting turned into one of those … freaky killing machines."

"Risks are apart of life," she answered. "Having someone on the inside could be valuable. Maybe we could even figure out how to undo the damage to the ones who've already been brainwashed. We have to let those kids get onto that train, Miles. We have to know where it's going. This way, I can at least try and protect them from any lasting damage while you guys figure out a way to save us all." She flashed a brief, hopeful smile but Miles just glared at her.

"And what if we can't? Huh? What if they figure you out and kill you? What if they get to you before we can and twist your mind up? What then?"

Charlie looked at him very seriously and then stood up. "If that happens, make sure you blow that place sky high, Miles. I'm not going to end up like Jason, a ticking time bomb." Then she walked away, out of the house and toward the spot she loved so much.

Everyone was quiet for a moment. Then Rachel spoke, quiet and shaky. "You can't let her do this, Miles. I can't lose her too."

"Wasn't planning on it, Rachel. Don't worry. I'll keep her safe." He squeezed her hand before she too walked away.

Both men sat in silence.

"You know it's a good plan. The best we've got," Bass told him finally.

Miles rubbed his face tiredly. "Yeah, I know."

XXXXX

Charlie sat in her usual spot, thinking about what had just happened. She knew it was dangerous to infiltrate the Patriot's, but it was their best shot at figuring out exactly what they were doing to these kids. It was a good plan and Miles couldn't see it.

A stick snapped and she turned instinctively, hand going to the knife at her hip. It was just Monroe. She relaxed and turned away. "What do you want?"

"I think your idea was the best, that's all," he shrugged.

"I know it was," she said shortly.

"Can't blame them for wanting to protect you."

She rolled her eyes. "I've been in worse situations than the Patriots, Monroe."

"Oh, yeah? Like what?"

She watched him out of the corner of her eye come over and sit on the old log, right next to her. "You really want me to list all the times I helped Miles beat you?"

He shrugged. "Doesn't really matter now, does it?"

She fell quiet and shrugged a shoulder. "No, it doesn't. All that matters is stopping the Patriots."

"I agree."

Suddenly, snippets from her dream flashed back to her and she swallowed hard. She watched his hands interlock with each other and remembered how she'd felt with them on her body. Her face grew warm and she stood up abruptly.

"If you want to make yourself useful, you can teach me some more moves like yesterday. Miles _will_ change his mind eventually."

Monroe went to his feet and held up his hands. "Sure, Charlie, whatever you want. Come here." He beckoned her with two fingers but she hesitated for a moment. She didn't really want to get that close to him again.

"I can't teach you anything that far away."

She approached him and shrugged off her jacket, tossing it onto the log.

"Turn around. I'm going to show you how to break free from someone who's got you in a chokehold from behind."

He was going to choke her? Inwardly, she groaned.

Outwardly, she obeyed, turning around and letting him come up behind her. Oh, this was a bad idea, she thought, as his chest pressed against her back. His right arm wrapped around her throat, just enough so that she couldn't escape.

"Now, people make the mistake of going straight for the arm, trying to pull it off. You won't be able to. Try."

Charlie frowned and tried everything to get his arm to budge even just a little. He was right.

"Alright, now stop. If this happens to you, don't waste your time trying to get loose that way. Instead go straight for the groin and then the eyes."

"How do I do _that_?"

He released her and she turned to face him. He demonstrated first in the air, acting as the defendant. He bent his knees and swung his arm back. "See? Get this part down and then I'll show you more."

She smirked and turned back around. "I get to punch you in the balls over and over? Great. Let's do this."

He shook his head at her willingness to hurt him, and then wrapped his arm back around her neck. "Put your hand on my wrist. Don't let me drag you backwards. You can't do anything if your back is arched. Now bend at the knees and strike backwards toward the groin."

It took awhile but finally she landed a blow that caused him to loosen his grip around her neck. He coughed and released her.

"Good. Now when you feel me start to let go, swing around and with your free hand hit me in the face. That'll further knock me off balance. Let's try it."

She went through the movements again and finally made it free. "Now what?" They were both breathing heavy.

"Now, do whatever you can to kill the other guy. Go for vulnerable points. Eyes, throat, groin, knees. If you can get their weapon, do it and kill them. These guys, the Patriots, aren't going to think very much of a cadet. They're not going to be on guard, so that'll be your advantage."

She nodded and went over to sit for a break. "Does Miles know all this stuff too?"

"Course."

She wondered why he never taught her anything before.

Monroe saw the frown on her face at that. "Miles trains for real. When you train for real, both people put their all into it. He probably just didn't want to hurt you."

She looked at him. "I want to train for real."

"We got two days. You really want to go on a mission all busted up?"

"No, but I want to train under realistic circumstances."

He eyed her critically for a moment. "Alright, but if you're going to pass out you tap out, got it?"

She nodded.

"I'm going to teach you something else now. Another move. Sit on the ground."

She did. He used his boot to position her legs in front of her and then sat down behind her so that she was in between his legs. Her breath hitched a bit. Monroe wrapped an arm around her throat again, but held her loosely.

"Alright, remember how I told you not to let them pull you backwards?"

She nodded.

"Well, this is what happens. Once your on the ground, it's very hard to get back up, _but_ not impossible. What would you do in this situation?"

She thought. "Probably elbow you in the stomach or ribs."

"That will only work if your stronger than your opponent. If your not, don't waste your time because while you're doing that he's cutting off your airway. You only have a few seconds to get him to loosen his grip before you pass out."

She rolled her eyes. "So what would you do, Monroe?"

He then put his legs over hers and tightened down so that she couldn't move anything. "If his legs are like this, go for the knees. Like this."

He taught her a move that seemed so simple she wasn't sure it would work.

"Try it. I'll choke you for real and you use that move. It hurts like hell and if you can get _me_ to let you go then you'll be fine against some Patriot puke."

She nodded. It was entirely too warm and comfortable sitting like this with his body surrounding her. She needed to remember he was just another enemy.

He counted. Then on three he wrapped his arm around her neck and pulled back with his other arm. It was no joke, she realized, resisting the impulse to grab his arm and free herself. Spots danced in front of her eyes. She saw his legs tighten around hers and remembered what he'd told her to do.

She grabbed a foot and pulled it up, quickly digging her elbow into the inside of his calf. She did it hard and he loosened his grip. Before he could regain momentum, she slid one arm in between his and her neck and pushed out, breaking his hold.

After that, she just rolled over and he put his hands up in surrender, breathing hard and chuckling. "That was good. Remember that. Don't let yourself be put in that position though. Watch your back."

They both laid on the ground, breathing hard and trying to recoup, when a dry voice spoke from off to the side.

"I never tire from seeing people kick your ass, Bass."

Charlie head shot up. Monroe raised his head and then dropped it back down. "I knew you were there the whole time."

Charlie hadn't though. "What are you doing?"

"Came to find you. Stumbled upon your little … whatever it was and decided to watch. You're not bad, kid." Miles ambled over and stuck out a hand to help her up. She took it, and dusted off her pants and shirt.

"Good enough to infiltrate the Patriots?" she asked.

Miles looked away, and suddenly she understood.

"You _want_ me to go. You just don't want to piss off my mom."

"I don't want you to go, Charlie. I don't. I just don't know of better way. If you were any other kid I'd put you there-no problem. But your not any other kid."

"And my mom will never forgive you if anything happens to me," she finished.

"One day you'll understand, kid."

Her eyes widened. "You think I don't _now_? I understand plenty, Miles."

He rubbed his eyes with two fingers. "Oh yeah? And what do you understand, Charlie?"

"I understand that you're letting your personal feelings cloud your judgement. You said it yourself-if I was any other kid you'd put me there. No problem."

"What's the point of doing all this if you're not alive when it's over?"

Her face softened. "I know you love my mom. I know you love me. But if we're not all willing to give it everything then we might as well just pack up and run now. Because they'll win." She knew she'd hit a nerve when he looked away for a moment. "But I'm not going anywhere. Those pricks got Jason killed. I'm not letting them get away with that."

Miles stood still for a moment, looking so sad she almost wanted to reach out to him. "Don't let your mom know the real plan. She'll knock you out and tie you up before letting you on that train."

She smiled hopefully. "You'll help me get ready?"

He nodded. "I'll take care of Rachel. You … " He looked over at Bass, a hard look in his eyes. "Train her for real."

Monroe nodded, his surprise masked expertly.

"I'll find out from my source where it's all going down, and then we'll sneak Charlie into the group. The rest of us will follow the train to its destination." He turned away to leave, and then turned back again quickly. "One week, Charlie. No more. If I have to come in guns blazing and kill everyone in that place to get you out, I will. You understand?" He pointed a finger at her face.

Ridiculously, she smiled. Her heart soared at the affirmation that he did care about her. He turned again and started walking away.

"What about my mom?"

"I said I'll take care of her." He kept walking.

"No, I mean … afterwards." Rachel would never forgive Miles for putting her last living child in harms way on purpose. She'd never forgive him for lying to her either. His time with her would be over.

Miles paused. "Let me worry about that, kid. You worry about keeping yourself alive. And Bass? You worry about teaching her something useful. She'll need it." Then he was gone.

Monroe came to stand next to her. They both watched Miles walk away and disappear.

"Well, you were right. He _did_ change his mind."

**Okay, I don't know what made me decide to have Bass teach Charlie how to fight. I should've known it would take research and I HATE research. I tried to describe the fight scenes accurately but I also know I probably made mistakes. So the next chapter will pick up the night before the mission. Maybe a bit earlier so I can fit in some smut. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Warning: pretty explicit lemon ahead. **

**Enjoy :)**

There was a lot that could go wrong with the plan. Charlie rubbed the inside of her wrist where the Militia had branded her. Should anyone see that mark, it would be over for all of them. The Patriots would take her for questioning, and then what would she say?

"You'll be fine."

Charlie looked up and saw Monroe stepping out of the shadows. She glared at him, tense from nerves. "I'm beginning to think I'm your best friend. What do you want?"

He glanced down where she was still rubbing the M scar on her wrist. "That bothering you?"

She dropped her hands immediately and sneered. "Not particularly."

Monroe nodded but in a way that let her know he knew she was lying. He took a seat next to her.

She expelled a breath and tried to keep her mind from jumping all over the place. In just a few hours, she'd be on a train to the middle of nowhere, all alone, in enemy territory. "I'm just thinking about what to say if they see it."

"If they see that mark," Monroe said, angling his head to look at her arm, "then they'll assume you were in the Militia." He shrugged. "Go along with it."

She stared at him. Go along with it?

"Everyone hates me because they think I nuked my own people, Charlie. Including what's left of my army. Work with that. I'm sure you'll be able to draw inspiration from somewhere."

That was actually a pretty good idea. "Yeah, I'm sure I will." Charlie stood up to leave.

"You know, I might deserve a lot of people's hate for a lot of different things, but not that."

Charlie stared down at him. "What do you want me to say? I don't care that people hate you. _I _hate you."

He looked up at her with scorn. "Yeah? Is that right? I'm not so sure."

A brief incredulous laugh escaped her. "What?"

He stood up. "You heard me."

In the ensuing silence, she struggled to form an answer to his ludicrous claim. "What insane logic are you working with that makes you think I don't hate you?"

He shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. You take my side against Miles and your mom all the time. You slept with my son. You let me train you." He stepped closer and she frowned. "You let me touch you. Those aren't the actions of hate, Charlie."

Now her eyes were wide with shock. How in the hell could he have interpreted her actions so badly?

"I've hated people, Charlie. You don't hate me. You used to," he conceded, "but not anymore."

"You… You're insane. I loathe you. You killed my dad."

"No, I didn't."

"You _got_ him killed," she revised, raising her voice.

"His death was an accident."

"You killed my brother, you kept my mom from me half my life, and you're just, in general, a horrible person. Those are reasons enough to hate you." She was so close to losing her temper and punching him in the throat.

"Danny getting killed is the biggest regret of my life," he admitted. "But your mom helped destroy the world. She left you of her own free will to come to Miles. What happened to her is her own fault. And your right, I'm a horrible person and I've done terrible things. Things I never would've done under different circumstances. If I'm a monster, it's because the world made me that way."

Her chest rose and fell as she struggled to keep her emotions in check. A fight she was losing. "I can never forgive you, no matter what you say. I'm a horrible person too." A sudden tear slipped down her cheek but she didn't wipe it away. "And I've also done terrible things. Things I never would've done had your men not come to my village that day." She turned away from him. "All the bad in my life I associate with you. Whether you deserve it all or not."

He was quiet for a moment, thinking. Then he said, "Okay, Charlie. I can live with that."

She felt him come up close behind her and some part of her liked the feel of his warmth radiating against her back. What was _wrong_ with her? After everything she'd _just_ said.

"But you're not a terrible person, Charlie. You're the only one here, including my son, who hasn't hurt or killed people for any other reason besides love. Whatever you did after _that_ _day_, was to save your brother. Save your friends. Save your family. I'm right."

"Sometimes it was to save myself." _Jason…_

"Well, I hate to break it to you, but you're worth saving too."

She had no idea why he thought so.

He was close behind her now. He tilted his head, his eyes roaming over the side her face, her hair, the curve of her shoulder. "What was it you said to me the other night?" His voice was low.

She didn't know. She'd said many things to him over the last few nights. Her breath quickened.

"If you're going to do something awful that you can't live with, it might as well be for love?"

Yeah, she remembered that.

"Whatever you gotta do in that place, Charlie, remember-it's because you love your family."

There he went, making her feel better again.

It really pissed her off.

She turned suddenly. "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

She waved her hands. "_That!_ Say those things… Try to make me feel better. Why?" Her voice rose high with confusion and anger.

He smiled. Wow, she thought, they were standing _way_ too close. She could feel his breath against her face when he spoke. "You may hate me, Charlie-although, Idon't think so-but I don't hate you. You're Miles' family. That means something to me."

Something crept inside her. Danger. Excitement. Monroe was forbidden. Whatever he thought, she _did_ hate him. Or at the very least, really disliked him. Why did she tolerate his touch when they were training? Why did she like it? Why _did_ she sleep with Connor?

Because she didn't hate him. Not anymore.

"I don't hate you," she whispered, understanding dawning. "I hate myself." How sad.

His face twisted and she wasn't sure what emotion caused it. Then he brought his hand up to touch her cheek softly. She felt the rough callus on the pad of thumb. "Don't. Don't hate yourself, Charlie. Hate me instead. I can take it." He continued stroking her cheek.

She felt like she was a kid again, lost and alone. Her blue eyes could only stare at him, wide and filled with conflicting emotions.

Monroe's hand suddenly stilled on her face. Then it slid around the back of her neck and rested their, fingers lightly moving over the nape. She closed her eyes momentarily, then opened them again. There was only about three inches of space between his mouth and hers.

Charlie closed that distance, angling her mouth over his. She felt like a dam broke inside her, nervous and excited at the same time. This was forbidden. Dangerous.

Exhilarating.

He didn't pull back so she kept going, closing her eyes and parting her lips, kissing him until his hand tightened on her neck and he drew her even closer. The only sound was the pounding in her ears, the blood pumping from her racing heart.

He tasted different than she had imagined in her dream, but still good. Like whiskey and … she didn't know what. She needed more and moved her hands to his shoulders pulling him so that her torso was flush with his.

_I can feel his heartbeat_, was her distant thought. It was racing.

Knowledge that he was as turned on she was spurred her on. There wasn't much time. Someone could walk up on them at any second. The thought both thrilled and terrified her.

She lowered her hands to his belt buckle and slid the tips of her fingers inside his pants. That broke the control she'd known he'd been trying to keep and he tore away from her kiss.

Drawing a ragged breath, he shook his head. "Don't, Charlie. You'll regret it." He took some deep breaths through his nose in an attempt to bring his body under control.

Charlie didn't want that. She slid her hand down further, bumping against his hard arousal. "Maybe."

"Stop."

"I don't think you want me to stop," she whispered, sort of mimicking what he'd said to her earlier about hate. "You're always following me, always watching me." His eyes closed as if in pain when she twisted her wrist and turned her hand around, brushing against the tip of his cock.

"That doesn't mean…"

They didn't have time for him to sort out his morals, she thought. And the more he stalled the less sure she was that she'd go through with it. And she wanted to. Badly.

She took her hand out of his pants and stepped back, straightening her jacket in the process. "You don't want me? Fine." She shrugged and turned away. "I'll go find someone else."

She'd barely said those last words aloud when he grabbed her arm and spun her around.

"I was just trying to be nice," he said in a low voice.

"I don't want nice. Not tonight." She wanted hard and rough and hot.

He looked briefly frustrated and then his eyes flickered down to her mouth. He pulled her close against him and then they were kissing again. His hands were everywhere, sliding over her face and throat, sliding down over her arms to cup her ass. He pulled her tight against his hard length, lightly thrusting between her legs.

She moaned in her throat and opened her mouth for deeper access to his. Her hands fumbled with his shirt, pulling it out of his pants and sliding her hands up his muscled chest.

It was a frenzy of touching and feeling and need. Everything the both of them wanted right now. Monroe unbuttoned her pants quickly and slid his hands inside her jeans and over the curve of her ass.

She gasped into his mouth. "Monroe?" she half-moaned, half-murmured, in between kisses.

"Yeah?"

"Take off your pants. We don't … have … much time." She let her head roll back when he dragged his lips across her jaw and throat, licking and kissing to her collarbone.

She felt him move to obey and when his attention came back to her, she turned around, moving her hair to one side. Taking her pants and boots off was too much work. She wanted him inside her now. He knew exactly what he was doing which was nice.

Without missing a beat, he walked her over to a tree and freed himself from his pants. She leaned back against him briefly, wanting to feel every inch him in her hand. He was content to let her for a few moments. He roughly shoved aside the straps of her tank top and bra and dipped a hand down inside her bra to palm and knead her breast.

The sounds she was making were delicious and he had to stop her. Monroe wanted to be inside her when he came, not in her hand like a teenager. Without gaining her approval first, he placed her hands against the tree and slid her pants down far enough to access to what he really wanted. He quickly made sure she was ready for him and then placed himself at her entrance.

She pushed back at the same time he thrust forward and then he was buried to the hilt in her wet slick heat. A ragged moan tore from his throat and he had to concentrate for a few moments to keep from coming right then. He breathed through his nose and thought of anything he could to keep his orgasm at bay.

But then she whimpered and reached around to pull on his arm. To bring him closer, and all his control was lost. He hunched over and hooked one arm under hers to grip her shoulder and the other went down to stroke the bundle of nerves between her legs.

She covered her mouth with the back of her hand to keep from crying out. Monroe had never seen anything so sexy. Maybe it was because it was Charlie and this was all so forbidden. He couldn't see her face which was what he really wanted but he could see her coming unraveled in his hands and that was next best thing.

"Faster," she gasped and he was more than happy to oblige.

He thrust slowly, but quickened the movements his hand was making between her legs. She inhaled sharply, muffled sounds escaping from between the fingers covering her mouth, spurring him on.

"Come for me, Charlie." His voice was tight with white-hot desire and he wanted nothing more than to pound into her and seek his own release. But he refused to do that before she did. He wanted to be the best. Better than any _boy_ she'd ever had, including Connor. _Especially_ Connor.

He felt her body tense and heard her breath stop completely. He kept his fingers on the right spot until his hand was soaked and she was finished. Her breath came in gasps and her body went limp against the tree.

Then Monroe was free to focus on what he wanted. He fucked Charlie hard and fast, right there up against the tree. Her body shook with every thrust, but he was careful to make sure he wasn't hurting her. Her ass rhythmically smacked against his pelvis and he was shocked the sound hadn't carried all the way to the house.

That thought almost stopped him cold. The thought of Miles popping out of the shadows and seeing him banging his niece from behind up against a tree.

_Almost._

He never missed a beat, but he did close his eyes and throw his head back, wantonly riding Charlie to completion. When he finished, he collapsed against her back, gasping for air and was distantly gratified that she didn't shove him off right away.

As his senses slowly came back to him, he slipped out of her and pulled his pants back up, tucking everything in and making sure nothing was out of place. Charlie did the same, silently adjusting her shirt and bra.

It was awkward to the least. Neither knew exactly what to do so Monroe gestured toward the direction of the house. "I'll go first."

She let him go and then went down and sat on the log, heavily. Almost immediately she hissed in discomfort. Between her legs, it was sore. _Not _that she'd change anything about her encounter with Monroe. It had been exactly what she'd wanted and _needed_. It had been mind-numbingly hot and even better than she'd expected.

Up against a tree, she thought, a squirmy feeling in her stomach.

She'd been wrong. If she could change one thing, it would be to have more time with him. Raw, wet, hot sex with no constraints or time limits.

Next time. If there was a next time.

God, she hoped there was.

She checked the sky. Dawn would soon break. It was almost time to leave. She stood up and checked herself one more time. How she'd ever be able to look Miles or her mom in the eye this morning was beyond her, but she had to act as natural as possible.

Focus.

Anything less than perfection and she'd get herself or someone else killed.

Then she started back to the house.


End file.
